Our trans-Atlantic marathon turned out to be just that. Buenos Aires to Santiago to Madrid to Casablanca to Marrakech, Morocco - five airports and 33 hours from hotel to hotel. We even met a guy on our flight overseas who works for, shall we say, a popular adventure television show who said Plan C is the perfect training ground for it.
When we started our travels, I thought Central and South America were eye-opening - learning the language, the norms, keeping tabs on surroundings, etc. Looking back, that was all rain drops compared to the typhoon that is Marrakech.
We stayed in the medina quarter, an ancient city center common in northern Africa. The medina itself dates back to the 11th century, spans two square kilometers and contains north of 4,000 streets. Four THOUSAND. It's so congested, the city cannot be mapped. There are very few signs of any kind, and this is by design given the city's history. Oh, and they only speak French and Arabic and Berber.
It is chaos personified, and from what we understood going in, you either love it or hate it. And, and at the beginning, we did not like it. Morocco on the whole is a fairly poor country, so its people resort to 'the hustle'. Merchants selling everything from pottery to crafts to clothing to leather goods to questionable food items. Not to mention the scores of food stalls, snake charmers, and monkey handlers in the main square day and night. And they are not shy - they will do everything they can to get your attention, keep it, and then force-feed a sale. Sandy's normally congenial disposition took a beating after it was all said and done, because if you don't show utter disinterest, the hawks will continue to swarm. I think it may have been the henna tattoo woman who did her in - she grabbed Sandy's hand, drew on it for about 10 seconds, then demanded 40 bucks. We gave her 10 and said never again.
We persisted and continued to tour the medina and surrounding area, batting away the hustlers as best we could. Sometimes you inevitably concede - I couldn't get a couple hundred meters from our hotel without getting lost, and for a few bucks a slew of kids will approach you and give you directions. (They will demand more than a few bucks.) We acclimated ourselves much better over the few days, even met a great guy (Habib, a rug dealer) who overheard our conversation when we were lost, invited us into his home for tea, and even gave us suggestions for where to visit next (including arranging accommodations).
SS: I wish that John was kidding when he said 33 hours of travel but that barely covers it. Seriously - 5 cities, 4 countries and 3 continents later we arrived at our destination. The crew of the show were super awesome to sit with for 14 hours straight and encouraged us to apply to participate. AMAZING ....
Can you say culture shock!?! Oh boy... We were not ready for this one. The chaos cannot even be translated into words and pictures don't capture it. (And if you do snap a photo - they demand an outrageous amount of money.) It took a few days to seriously 'learn the game', but when we did things started to become easier. EVERYONE is a guide, and they demand some crazy amount of money but always reluctantly settle for what we have. One guy even took our lighter when John pulled everything out of his pocket in an 'I don't have more money' tactic. Relentless.
Although, the Medina is a sight to see. Intricate, narrow winding streets make up this immaculate maze, most of which hasn't changed in the last 1,200 years. The hundreds of riads (guesthouses located in the medina) are deceiving from the plain outer door, but once inside are beautiful square villas with open-air centers and stunning rooftops with panoramic views. Moroccan mint tea is a very traditional custom and served everywhere - a delight that we indulged in daily.
